


Past, Present, Future

by mdr_24601



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Finnick Odair Lives, Finnick Odair-centric, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:56:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdr_24601/pseuds/mdr_24601
Summary: Finnick wakes up.He remembers the sewers and the mutts and he struggles to make sense of the events that brought him to this moment. But he can feel Annie's hand grasped in his and, as far as he's concerned, that's all he needs.
Relationships: Annie Cresta & Annie and Finnick's Son, Annie Cresta & Johanna Mason, Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Annie and Finnick's Son & Finnick Odair, Annie and Finnick's Son & Johanna Mason, Johanna Mason & Finnick Odair
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	Past, Present, Future

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me how Finnick survived the mutts. I have no idea. But that part isn't really important. :)

Finnick wakes up. 

He’s not sure how, or why, or what’s going on around him when he does. He just knows that one moment, he’s being pulled apart by the mutts in the tunnel, and the next, he’s peeling his heavy eyelids open to fluorescent lights and blurred shapes above him. The world begins to take shape around him as he opens his eyes further. Hazy figures slowly focus enough to the point where he can make out the outline of people. There’s a steady beeping somewhere next to him, and a warm hand in his. The hand, (Annie’s; he knows this, he has memorized the feeling of her hand in his) gives his hand a gentle squeeze. 

Ever so slightly, with fingers that have forgotten how to move, Finnick squeezes back. 

Time drifts slowly and gently around him, picking his body up and carrying him like the current of the sea. For a long time, Finnick floats. He can’t stay conscious for very long, and the doctors assure him that he needs his rest. For the first time in his life, he lets his eyelids fall closed. 

When he does manage a sufficient amount of lucidity, Finnick focuses on Annie’s voice. She talks to him often. Little things about her day, or how the other victors are faring, or her time working in the hospital with Mrs. Everdeen. He wonders if she knows he can hear her, or if she’s just doing it because she wants to talk to him. 

Regardless, her voice is welcome. It’s one of the only things that makes him want to stay awake, and fight the tendrils of sleep and sedatives that are constantly dragging him down. That, and the promise of seeing her again, hearing her laugh, holding her in his arms. 

It’s only fitting that when he does finally wake up, for real this time, hers is the first voice he registers. “Finnick?” Annie’s voice is curious, with a panicked edge that he knows so well. “Finnick? Are you awake?”

“Annie.” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, and the word is garbled, but when Annie’s eyes come into focus, he can see they’re welled with tears. 

“Finn,” she says softly. “I love you. It’s going to be okay.” Then, louder, “We need a doctor over here!”

More figures rush towards them, but Finnick pays them no attention. Annie’s hand is still gripping his, and hasn’t stopped. He holds back just as tightly, like a lifeline. “I love you,” he says, because it’s all he can think to say. All he knows how to say, right then. 

“I love you, too,” she says again. “I thought...I thought you weren’t going to make it, and it’s a miracle that you’re even here.” A few tears slip from her eyes and he wants nothing more than to take his finger and wipe them away. “I have so much to tell you, but I promise, everything will make sense once the doctor explains.”

The doctor does, eventually, explain. It takes longer than Finnick and Annie would have liked, but he spends the whole time holding her hand, and that’s more than he’s done in weeks, so he’ll take it. 

“You sustained severe damage to your face, shoulders, and back,” the doctor says, observing the two of them with a wary glance. “We were lucky to get you out when we did. Any longer and you wouldn’t have made it. We put you in a medically induced coma for a month while your body healed. There will be scars that we won’t be able to remove, and you will need to go through physical therapy to repair the functioning of your muscles.”

“When can we go home?” Finnick asks. His throat is scratchy, dry, and he hates how uncooperative his voice has become. 

“You will need to stay here for at least another month for recovery before we release you,” the doctor says.

“It’ll be okay,” Annie whispers into his hair after the doctor leaves. “We’ve waited this long, we can wait another month, right?”

“As long as it’s with you,” he murmurs back. He’s tired all the time, spending nearly all of his day in bed. Despite this, he feels jittery and restless, and wants to get up and move. Physical therapy was sounding more appealing with every minute that passed. “Tell me what happened while I was asleep. What’s been going on?”

Annie takes his hand and talks, about the war, about Snow, about Coin’s death. Then, her eyes tear up again as she presses her hand to her abdomen. Her next words are quiet but certain. “I’m pregnant.”

Finnick’s breath catches in his throat as he struggles to get words out. “We’re having a baby?”

“We’re having a baby.”

She guides his hand to her abdomen to feel. It’s too early to feel any definite movement, but just the very idea of life there is enough to make Finnick’s heart soar. “I love you. Both of you.” A sob sticks in his throat and he says, “I almost can’t believe we actually made it out.”

She gives him a watery laugh. “Feels like a dream, doesn’t it? Or a fantasy. I never thought it would actually happen.”

“But it did happen,” he says, his hand still resting on the barely noticeable swell of his wife’s abdomen. “Look at us.”

“Look at us,” Annie echoes, a flicker of hope crossing her face. It doesn’t flicker away, though. The hope makes a permanent home on Annie’s face, lighting her eyes up. It’s gorgeous, breathtaking, and the best thing he’s ever seen. 

* * *

The month in the hospital feels simultaneously never ending and quick as light. Finnick spends much of his time in physical therapy, and any remaining minutes with Annie. The Capitol doctors have endless resources to help him, and his recovery is constant and steady. The resources aren’t enough to erase the scars from his skin, no matter how much they try. 

Finnick can still remember the first time he saw the scars. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget. They cut across his face in jagged lines, down his shoulders and back and neck. He doesn’t view them as symbols of his bravery or triumphant battle scars. 

Quite honestly, they’re ugly. Good. It’s about time something hinders his beauty. He’d spent too long under Snow’s regime looking like a porcelain statue, void of any flaws. The scars aren’t pretty by any means, and Finnick’s glad for that. 

Annie has been staring at them for the month she sat with him in the coma, so she barely even bats an eye anymore. But the other victors haven’t gotten the chance to grow accustomed to his appearance, and he can see the pity in their eyes. 

Johanna is the first to visit him. Her eyes widen when she sees them, and she promptly declares, “Well, it’s about time something makes you ugly. Now you can live life like the rest of us.”

He laughs louder than he has in weeks as Johanna voices his own thoughts. “I’ll need your tips, Jo. How do you deal with it?”

She shrugs dismissively. “Once you stop caring about what other people think of you, you forget about it eventually.”

The underlying conversation goes unspoken, as it always has with them. He doesn’t need to be pretty anymore. Neither of them do. “Sounds gratifying.”

“Because everything about our lives just screams ‘gratifying’, doesn’t it?” Her humor is biting and sarcastic and Finnick finds himself glad to hear it again. “It’s good to see you alive, Odair. Try not to get killed next time, will you? You’ll give your wife an aneurysm.”

He smiles, and she turns her lips upward in response. “It’s good to see you, too, Johanna.”

Besides Johanna, the other victors pay him visits as well. Katniss sits stiffly on his bed as she tells stories of Peeta’s recovery. Haymitch saunters in, glass in hand, and they talk about whatever’s on their mind. Eventually, though, they leave for home, and rightfully so. 

Perhaps his most treasured moments of the day are the late nights with Annie. Everything is relaxing in the still hours of the night. His hand rests on her constantly growing baby bump, and her fingers trail lightly over his chest, feeling his heartbeat. They sometimes talk, sometimes don’t, but the company is what’s important. 

“Have you thought about names?” Annie asks quietly one night. “For the baby.”

“No,” Finnick admits. “I haven’t.”

“Oh, good.” She buries her face in his chest and sighs. “Because I haven’t, either. I don’t want to fall behind.”

“You’re not behind,” he says as he presses a kiss to her head. “You’re right on time.”

* * *

They find out the baby will be a boy the same week they’re scheduled to return home. Finnick finds it fitting. The thought of raising a child is wonderful, but the thought of raising a boy makes the feeling all the more real. Annie is overjoyed, and so is he. 

“In a strange way,” Annie begins as she and Finnick prepare to go home, “I’m going to miss this place.”

Finnick laughs. “I only stayed because you did.”

“Funny,” she says with a small smile. “I could’ve sworn it was the great food and five-star accommodations.”

They say goodbye to the doctors, with promises that he will call and continue physical therapy from home. The train waits for them at the station, sleek and modern in the way all Capitol trains are. Finnick tries not to think of the numerous times he’d boarded trains just like this one, watching as the scenery sped by on his way to the Capitol. When they climb the stairs, he grips Annie’s hand a little tighter. 

“You alright?” she asks him quietly as they sit down. He feels the tightness in his chest reduce when he realizes that it isn’t a train used for the Games. It’s just a Capitol train.

“I will be,” he responds, because he’s not sure what else to say. Annie has only ever ridden in the trains specifically made for the Games, so she would not have a reaction to her surroundings. Still, though, she seems to sense his uneasiness in the way she always picks up on what he’s feeling. 

“Here,” she says, slowly reaching for his hand and guiding it to her stomach. “He kicked this morning.”

Finnick places his hand on Annie’s stomach, and with deliberate breaths, is able to remain calm. He can feel the little flutter of life that he and Annie are bringing into the world. 

“I can’t wait to go home,” he says after a moment of silence. “And show him the sea. He should learn how to swim and fish.”

“I can’t think of a better person to teach him,” Annie responds. “We’re so close, Finn. I can’t wait to feel the sun.”

He smiles, because the filtered air of District Thirteen had nothing on the fresh air of Four, and they both know it. “And see the ocean. We’ll go to the beach soon, won’t we?”

“Right away,” she agrees. “It’ll be the first thing we do.”

Finnick takes her hand. Out the window, he watches nature speed by, waiting for the moment where he would catch view of the sea. That was always one of his favorite parts of the train rides home. That, and stepping off the train. Seeing the ocean was confirmation that he’d made it through another trip, that he wasn’t in the Capitol anymore. 

“Finnick.” Annie nudges his shoulder gently, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Look.”

His gaze follows where Annie is pointing, and his breath hitches. Blue and wide and expansive, exactly how he remembered it, the sea stretched on for miles. “We’re home.”

* * *

Through the palpable sense of relief from being done with the ordeal that was the last ten years of their life, Finnick and Annie feel uneasy. Disturbed. Miserable, sometimes. 

And it isn’t that their life isn’t good. It’s wonderful, exhilarating, to be able to live the life he’d always wanted but never dreamed of having. But most days, the past refuses to let go of them. Finnick can’t sleep; visions of bloody hands and shrill screams make a permanent home in his mind. Annie still wakes up screaming. 

They are not okay. 

He knew it wouldn’t be easy. The therapists at the hospital had said that it would be a long time before they healed from everything they’d been through. Sometimes, Finnick can still feel his skin crawl with phantom touches that he doesn’t want. 

Some days are good and some days are bad, but he wakes up every day next to his wife, which is more than he ever thought he’d do. 

On the nights when he can’t sleep, Finnick goes to the beach and swims until he can’t move anymore. Then, he picks his tired body up from the sand and walks home to the dark and quiet house, showers, and climbs into bed next to Annie. If he stays out until morning, he’ll walk inside to the sight of Annie making breakfast. She’ll kiss him on the cheek and say, “Good morning.”

If it’s a bad day, and Annie is still in bed, he’ll make breakfast for her instead. He’ll bring it to their bedroom, pull the curtains open so the morning sunlight streams in, and whisper into her ear, “I love you.”

They make it work, the two of them. Annie’s stomach continues to grow in the coming weeks, and it’s proof that they can heal, and can bring life into the world. Finnick settles into a routine.

That is, until a knock sounds at their door. 

It isn’t the knock that’s unusual. People knock on their door occasionally, to deliver something or just to say hello. It’s the person behind the knock that’s not ordinary. “Hey,” Johanna says from their front porch as they swing the door open. “Got room for one more?”

Johanna, as it turns out, is not quite okay either. Her home in Seven is empty and she felt no need to stay, so she didn’t. 

“Come in,” Finnick says, stepping aside. “What, Seven too cold for you?”

She snorts. “Yeah, I was really missing the suffocating heat of the arena, so I thought, ‘well, better go to Four, then’.”

“Johanna,” Annie greets, walking into the entryway, lips parted slightly in surprise. “How are you?”

“How do you think I am, Cresta?” Johanna asks. “Well, shit, Finnick knocked you up?”

Annie’s hand rests on her growing stomach. “Yeah. You should meet him.”

“I’ll have to wait until you pop him out first.”

“Good thing we’ve got a spare room.”

Finnick expects Johanna to leave, but she doesn’t. Not after one week, or three, or eight. And, if he’s being honest, he’s glad for it. Having another victor around is comfortable in a way one might not expect. There is comfort in the familiar, especially with a person who has endured the same events that you have, and Finnick watches as Johanna too begins to heal. 

The three of them can’t be considered ‘okay’, not yet. Maybe not for a long time. But the important part is that they’re getting there, and maybe someday, they will be. 

Personally, as Finnick watches his wife and best friend forge a friendship, he’s just glad they all got the chance to try. 

* * *

Annie is nearly due to give birth when she wakes Finnick up by sitting upright in bed, pulling the covers away from legs, and stands up with shaky breaths. He knows the sound of Annie’s panic well, as she does his, so he sits up with her. 

“Breathe with me,” he whispers into the dark room. Annie manages a few shaky inhales. “Good. Let’s keep going. You’re doing great.”

She gets her breathing under control gradually. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Hey, it’s what I’m here for, right?” he asks with a small smile. “Want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“How am I supposed to be a mother?” Annie asks, voice cracking. “I’m barely a functional person myself, how can I possibly bring another person into this world?”

Finnick reaches for her hands. “Listen, not only are you a functional person, but you’re the strongest person I know. If anyone can bring a person into this world, it’s you. And this world is a better place thanks to the fighting we did. It’s because of you that our son will get to grow up safe and happy.”

“I just—” her voice broke again, “I think about him going through the same stuff we did, and I can’t even comprehend it.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “He’ll never go through that, okay? Any of it. I can promise you that.”

She seems to relax at that, the tension melting from her body as she sunk back into the bed. “I can’t believe we get to hold him soon.”

“It’s only a matter of time.”

Their son comes just days after that conversation. Johanna is there for the birth, and Annie gives birth at home with a doctor present. It’s loud and exhilarating and Finnick’s never experienced anything like it. And when his son is placed in his arms, blinking up at him with his large green eyes, he’s not sure he’ll ever feel love like this again. 

They call him Wade, after Finnick’s brother. Annie loves the name and so does he, although Johanna has made a habit of calling him anything but his actual name. 

There’s something bittersweet about Wade’s birth. Although Finnick has never felt a love like this before, he can’t help but notice the gaping hole in their family. He had always imagined that Mags would be around to see him have a child. 

“Look at him,” Annie says tearfully as they sit in the living room, days after his birth. “He looks like you, Finn.”

“How can you tell?” Johanna asks with a small laugh. “He looks like a baby to me.”

“It’s the nose,” Annie declares. “And the eyes. And the smile.”

Johanna peers over Annie’s shoulder, examining Wade’s features, before letting out a hum of acknowledgement. “Congratulations, you two. ‘Bout time something good happens around here.”

“I can’t wait to take him to the beach,” Finnick says, looking at his son. Something warm blooms in his chest every time he sees Wade’s eyes light up with happiness. 

Johanna throws her arms up in exasperation. “He’s a fucking infant, Odair!”

* * *

Once word gets out to the other victors that Wade’s been born, everybody wants to meet him. The victors of Twelve stop by for a week-long visit, staying in the multiple spare rooms in the house. Peeta is good with children and Katniss is awkward but sweet. Haymitch comes, too, telling them about how Katniss and Peeta have been growing back together since the end of the war. 

“Alright,” Finnick says one morning while everyone is gathered around the table. “We’re going to the beach.”

Annie grins widely at him, while everyone else just looks perplexed. “Who’s taking care of the baby?” Katniss asks. 

“He’s coming with us,” Finnick responds. “Everyone in Four brings their babies to the beach.” Johanna rolls her eyes at this, and Finnick turns to her. “What, parents in Seven don’t bring their babies to the forest or something?”

“How much do you know about Seven?” Johanna drawls. “No, parents don’t bring their babies out to stare at the trees. We can’t all be as insane as you, can we?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Peeta offers. 

“Of course you do.” Johanna stands up from the table, her chair scraping against the floor. 

In the end, they elect to go to the beach. Finnick holds Wade close to his chest as he lets the waves roll over his feet. The wind blows against his face and through his hair. Wade lets out a small giggle, and Finnick presses a gentle kiss to his small head. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Annie helping Johanna into the water slowly. Her face is ashen but she perseveres, and he can’t deny the flutter of hope that rushes through him at the sight. He knows about Johanna’s fear of water from her time in the Capitol, and the fact that she feels comfortable enough in Four to work through it can only be a good thing. 

Katniss and Peeta wade into the water slowly, not that Finnick’s surprised. He walks over to them, still holding Wade. “How do you like it?” 

Katniss stares out at the ocean, to where boats float in the distance like tiny little specs on the horizon line. “It’s big.”

“You get used to it.”

“How’s everything going with you?” Peeta asks. “With the baby and everything.”

He shrugs. “Good, mostly. There are good days and bad days, but I’m sure you know that already.”

They don’t talk about the hijacking or the Games or the Capitol, but they don’t need to. It’s clear that time has begun to mend the two of them. He can see it in the way Katniss’ smiles reach her eyes, and the way Peeta’s hand drifts towards hers in any free moment. 

“I’m glad things are going well,” he says, and he means it. “Now, how about Annie and I show you all how to make a net?”

* * *

Time passes differently after Wade’s birth. Before, the days stretched on and on as he waited for something, anything, to brighten them. Now, with his son and Annie and Johanna, the days pass in the blink of an eye. 

Before he knows it, Wade is celebrating his fifth birthday. They’re at the beach, of course, because Wade is a District Four kid, and it’s one of his favorite spots. Finnick sits with Annie in the sand a few feet away from the shoreline, while Johanna sits in the water with Wade splashing next to her. 

“I can’t believe he’s five,” Annie says with a sigh. “If he’s five, what does that make us?”

“Thirty?” Finnick guesses. 

She laughs. “Yes, that. But also...I don’t know. Healed? Do you feel healed?”

He takes time to ruminate. “I feel happy. I love you and Wade and our family. Look how far we’ve come with everything.”

Annie nods, resting her head on his shoulder as the warm sun beats down on them. “I’m proud.”

“Of what?”

“Of everything.”

He smiles, and presses a kiss to her mouth. “Good. You should be.”

Wade runs over to them, his feet making little imprints in the sand. “Dad! Come swim with me and Aunt Jo!”

“Oh, you want me to swim with you?” he asks, scooping his son up in his arms. “Come on, let’s see if we can get Aunt Jo to play the splash game.”

“No splash game,” Johanna says, though her lips turn upward in a smile. “I’ve been splashed enough today. Go splash your dad, kid. He hasn’t been splashed ever.”

“Ever?” Wade echoes, eyes wide. Finnick sets him down. 

“Come on,” Finnick says again with a smile, walking into the ocean. “I bet you can’t splash me!”

Wade shrieks, loud and shrill in the way that kids do, and follows him into the water. The splash game, as he calls it, is just a water fight. There are no rules or reason to it, other than to splash the other person as many times as you can. Finnick doesn’t mind, because it’s Wade’s favorite game, and always manages to make him smile. 

“Dad?” Wade asks after the splash game has calmed down. 

“Yeah, Wade?” Finnick asks as he sits down in the water, letting the waves roll over his lap.

“Where did you get those lines on your back?”

His blood runs cold. The question is innocent enough, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Wade wanted to ask. His voice is cautious when he responds. “A long time ago, somebody wanted to hurt me.”

“Somebody evil?” his son asks with rapt interest. 

“Yes,” Finnick says, managing to smile a little. “Somebody evil. He didn’t like me or your mom or Aunt Jo, so he wanted to hurt us.”

“Nobody can hurt you,” Wade protests. “Or Mom or Aunt Jo. You’re like superheroes.”

Finnick laughs and ruffles his hair. “Even superheroes can get hurt. But the important thing is that we’re here now. The scars don’t even hurt anymore.” Not physically, at least. But the emotional pain, though it’s lessened considerably over the years, will never really go away. Their experiences have made them who they are. There’s no getting rid of that. 

His son nods, seemingly satisfied with the response. “Will you tell me about the bad man when I’m older?”

“If you want to hear it, and it’s okay with Mom, I’ll tell you.”

They rejoin Annie and Johanna on the sand minutes later, tired from the splash fight. “Is it lunch time?” Annie asks. Wade gives an enthusiastic yes. 

They walk back to the house to prepare for lunch. Finnick can feel the beginnings of a sunburn forming on his shoulders, but he can’t bring himself to mind. He and Annie let Johanna and Wade go ahead as they trail behind. Annie slips her hand into his as naturally as breathing. 

“Good day?” she asks. 

“Good day,” he confirms. 

Later that night, Annie reveals that she is pregnant again. Finnick’s heart beats so quickly that he’s worried that it might burst from his chest, but he picks Annie up and spins her around. She laughs into his shoulder as he sets her down again. “I love you,” he says, because in times like these, it’s the only feeling he can convey. “So much.”

“I love you, too,” Annie says with an equally radiant smile. “And you should let me paint the nursery this time.”

* * *

Finnick’s not sure how it happens, but time continues to move forward. He doesn’t really keep track of the time after the war the same way he did in the beginning, where he would mentally mark the beginning of each new month. It’s been an uncountable amount of months since the end of the war, so the practice would be futile anyway, but he doesn’t even count the years anymore. 

He just knows that one day he wakes up and notices the small pouch of fat on his stomach. It’s barely noticeable but he can’t help but wonder how it got there. Has it really been that long? He sees the passage of time in the way Annie’s hair starts to go gray at the roots, or every time a new wrinkle appears on his face. 

In another life, a life ruled by Snow, Finnick would have been worried to see these new flaws, the evidence of imperfection. But in this life, where he is happy and no longer needs to worry about the inevitability of aging, these flaws remind him that they have moved on, that they have healed. It’s a relief, and one that he’s grateful for every day. 

But perhaps the most important indicator that time has passed is watching their children grow up. Wade is the spitting image of Finnick. In another life, he would have made a wonderful victor. In this life, he will never have to. 

Their second child is a girl, Meri. She inherited Annie’s dark hair and his green eyes. She is only seven years old, and the thought of her growing up to become a tribute makes bile rise in his throat. 

“It’s okay,” Annie murmurs to him from her side of the bed. Of course, she knows exactly what he is thinking. Wade turns twelve today. The meaning is not lost on any of them. “He won’t go through that, remember?”

“I know,” Finnick replies, and it’s true. The fear and paranoia had dimmed over the years. “Still, though. He’s twelve. That’s a big deal.”

Annie rolls over in bed to face him. “Not to him. Or Meri. It’s just another birthday to them.”

“Good. It should be.”

He’s glad that his children won’t experience the twinge of fear that came on every child’s twelfth birthday. Annie is right, and he knows it. 

“I’m going to get breakfast started,” she says, standing up and running her fingers through her tousled hair. “You’ll be down there soon?”

“Wouldn’t want to miss the birthday breakfast,” he responds with a smile, feeling lighter already. “I’ll be right down.”

Annie is calling the kids for breakfast when he makes it to the kitchen. Johanna pours a steaming cup of coffee and sends him a knowing glance. “So. Twelve today, huh?”

“Yeah,” Finnick replies, breathless. “I’m wondering when we should tell him about everything. I want it to be before he learns it in school, so he hears it from us first.”

“Well, don’t tell him on his birthday, idiot,” Johanna scoffs. He feels refreshed by her bluntness. “Don’t make his day all depressing. Tell him after.”

Finnick nods as Wade and Meri stumble down the stairs, still tired. He watches as Annie sets two plates down at the table, pancakes piled high on them. 

“Happy birthday,” Annie says, wrapping Wade in a hug and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Twelve’s a big one.”

“You say that every year,” Wade replies with a small laugh. He sits down next to Finnick.

“So, how does it feel to be twelve?” he asks. Beside him, his son shrugs. 

“Same as it does to be eleven.”

There is something so breathtakingly nonchalant about his answer, and Finnick feels his eyes water. Annie sends him a concerned glance, and he shakes his head minutely, a gesture that says _I’m fine._

The silence is broken when Meri bounds onto his lap. 

“Hey, Mer,” Finnick says, adjusting his seat so she could sit comfortably on his lap. “What’s up?”

“Pancakes!” his daughter chirps happily, stealing some from his plate. 

“Hey, go steal Jo’s pancakes!” Finnick protests, but he can’t bring himself to feel genuinely annoyed. 

Meri frowns. “But yours are better,” she whines. Finnick sighs dramatically, like he’s making a big sacrifice. For his daughter, though, he would. 

“Fine, you can have some of mine.”

Meri giggles, and he catches Annie’s eye from across the table. She gives him a slight smile, and he doesn’t think before he smiles back. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this one. Be sure to leave kudos or comment if you enjoyed! <3


End file.
